Susi
by Sandungera
Summary: "None of this can actually be happening. If it makes you more comfortable...none of this is happening. Such things could not occur. Never a word of it is literally true. Even so, the next thing that happened, happened like this:" -American Gods, by Neil Gaiman; Chapter 18 [A warped not-love story told in fragments. Greatly influenced by the novel, American Gods.]
1. ones

sort of a replacement for my old DRRR! story, "Her Majesty". I'm not sure how long this story will be. warnings might change

a word about the format of this story: it is told in little fragments, like memories that Izaya holds. most chapters will be small, but will always have an important plot device. no fillers here.

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><p>The girl approaches him with such confidence, that he is almost startled and he is even more almost startled when she clasps her hands together in front of him. At her speed, he thought she was going to embrace him, but as if she knew that embracing him would bother him, she stopped herself and merely assumed a position that she knew would please him; a worshiping position not unlike that of Christians, or even a man kneeling for a proposal. It made him feel in power.<p>

Safe.


	2. twos

I recommend listening to The Fratellis' _Flathead_ whilst reading this snippit.

Or the whole story, maybe, we'll see.

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><p>She gives him no introduction, only a message,<em> "I am at your service."<em>

Music to his ears; he can always use more eyes around the city, more drones to mindlessly carry out his work, though he is sure she was not mindless just...interesting.

He smiles wickedly, and introduces himself, though surely she already knows him, "Ahh, a fan? I'm so flattered!" He says with false modestly.

"If you would wish to think of me as a fan, Isaiah, then let it be."

She has called him Isaiah. A prophet. A legend. An influencer of people.

He likes her.


	3. threes

She speaks almost perfect Japanese, almost. Occasionally an accent will blossom, usually when she is excited about something, and Izaya will try to place it, but before he can, she loses it and regains her almost perfect Japanese.


	4. fours

I have this whole story on AO3 if you want to read ahead.

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><p>Every other day, he finds her in his apartment, looking around curiously at his possessions and asking about them. He is still very confused on how she manages to get inside, and is only slightly afraid that she will find Celty's head and take it away from him, but that's just a silly feeling, of course.<p>

On the other days, when he does not see her, she is "away on business" as she puts it. She has never told him what business she was involved in, and whenever he has tried to track her, he loses her at exactly twenty meters from his building. He knows, he counted.

She is very very good, he thinks and smiles to himself, but he is even better.


	5. fives

helloooo anon reviewer who told me this chapter was all weird and in code. thanks, yo.

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><p>"Tell me," she starts, "What Gods do you believe in?"<p>

"I do not believe in any Gods."

She smiles, "You're lying."


	6. sixes

One day he walks in and she is sitting in his chair with a black cat in her arms meowing to her. She meows back to it and whispers in its ear. Then she turns and tells Izaya to be careful, because there's a storm coming.

He believes that she is only trying to scare and control him, but either way, he watches out for any signs of an all out war coming out.


	7. sevens

She is always talking about strange things. About myths and legends and Gods and fae, and normally he would be interested (especially when she talks about Valhalla and Valkyries) but she speaks in code. In rhyme and rhythm; it makes no sense to him, and frankly, it annoys him a great great deal.

He is getting tired of her.


	8. eights

tbh, whenever someone reviews with just 'update soon', i wait an extra few weeks to update.

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><p>Shizuo almost has him, when suddenly, he just stops in favour of just walking away to an unknown place, and Izaya, whilst happy, is confused and alarmed, though he won't admit to the later.<p>

There she is, though, standing within a crowd of gawking onlookers; she is waving hello to him like a mother waves to her child on a ride at a fair. For a second, he believes he sees a naked, bleeding child at her side, but it is only for a second before he blinks, and in the place of that child is a man he does not know. Just a person. A precious, uninteresting person.

He begins to suspect she is a spy sent to destroy him.


	9. nines

i pre-wrote this story months ago up until here. i don't know which direction it will go in, but it'll be an interesting one.

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><p>It has been days, and he still does not know where she lives, and yet she always seems to be nearby when he needs her.<p>

Today she is late.

She is late for the storm.

Cold water pelts at his forehead, and he feels the metallic tang of blood in his mouth and the cold wind on his cheek and the terrible terrible fear of death.

"Don't worry," she tells him, clutching his hand at their breast, "I will climb the mountain, and I will fight the thunderbird, and I will come back to save you." she kisses his bloody hand, and he would find time to be revolted at the physical contact, but he is too busy trying to stay awake and ignore the pain that a stabbing brings, "You'll be gone for a little bit...you'll be alone and scared, but not for long," she cups his cheek lovingly and smiles, "Not for long-I'll try to get them to believe in you, I...I promise."

And Izaya doesn't believe in promises, but right now, he believes in her. He believes in her words and her vigor and her fading smile as he tumbles into nothingness.

He is in nothingness.

He is nothingness.

All at once, he begins to panic and cry and scream out and he knows he is dead, and something in the back burner of his mind tries to reassure him that she will help him out of this, but it goes on ignored in favour of the tightening in Izaya's stomach. But he had no stomach, not anymore. There is no voice with which to scream with and no one to hear it. How could he see? Can he see? There is no darkness no light or static, just nothing. With nothing, there is no fear. No anxiety. No hope.

There is nothing.

Nothing.

"Isaiah."

Her.

He opens his eyes to the world, and he is no longer in the alleyway with rain and thunder clashing down upon him, he is home, in his bed, with her hand supporting his neck and her other hand at his breast with a dull, grey stone at her fingers.

"I'm sorry I took so long-the thunderbird put up a fight, but I put up an even greater one. Our battle lasted for three days and three nights, and on the final night, I took his throat and-"

He says nothing, and she understands. She understands because surely his mind clock has stopped working properly and needs time to readjust. He knows not who she is, or where he is, or even his own name, surely. He doesn't even listen, he just absorbs her words and tries to remember what it is like to be alive again, and she smiles, looking down at him as if he was a newborn child because at this moment, he might as well be.

That's alright, she has everything under control.

She kisses his forehead like a doting mother would her baby and leaves him to wonder up at his own ceiling at the strands of light coming from the window at the head of his bed.

It is only later, hours later, when he has regained his humanity, that he realises that she has brought him back from the dead. He is filled with excitement and fear and adrenaline, and he starts laughing and laughing because perhaps maybe he doesn't need Celty's head.

Because suddenly he realises that he is dealing with no ordinary person.


End file.
